


Coulson's Complete List of Everything Clint Barton

by Nikolai_Alexi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: After a while, Assume they're together basically, Clint is paranoid sue him, Hacking, Other, Phil Coulson Has the Patience of a Saint, Poor Coulson, Snooping, clint is a little shit, fuck these tags are a mess, i guess this is fluff?, idek, jasper is a good bean, sorta kinda implied ClintXCoulson but not really?, victoria is a bitch surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 05:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14928494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Alexi/pseuds/Nikolai_Alexi
Summary: Coulson is known for making lists. For everything. However, usually, if people end up on these lists it tends to end very, very, very poorly for them. Naturally, as with all things Clint Barton, that's not the case this time.





	Coulson's Complete List of Everything Clint Barton

It is, apparently, a well-known fact that Level 7 Senior S.H.I.E.L.D Agent Phillip J Coulson makes lists. Endless amounts of lists. Most of the rookies use it as evidence as to why Coulson is a robot. Most of the senior agents know that it’s Coulson’s way of staying sane, at least most of the time.

By the time one Clinton Francis Barton barges his way into Phil Coulson’s life, he’d made hundreds of thousands of lists. Whether it be for the grocery store, packing for missions, or the next big, bad, and uglies he was going to take out, he made a ridiculous amount of lists. Normally, if a person was on a list, it was a very, very, _very bad thing._ Normally, like all things Clint Barton, he was an exception.

* * *

He found the list late one night after hacking into Coulson’s computer. He was bored, couldn’t sleep, and a naturally suspicious person. Sure, hacking into Coulson’s computer probably wasn’t the best idea, but he had never been known for his good ideas. Afterall, he was a former merc who shot bad guys with a prehistoric weapon and somehow was still alive and in one piece. 

It was buried under a bunch of older files, strategically placed there no doubt. Coulson was smart like that. Rearranging the dating files on numerous documents confused most hackers and discouraged people from digging further and sorting through irrelevant information.

But Clint knew Coulson better than what the man might think. Even if he’d only known him for a couple of months. For the most part, Coulson’s files didn’t interest him. He only wanted to know about any classified information regarding himself. His files, exams, evaluations, comments, and everything else that regarded him. He was paranoid, sue him. 

The general files were nothing he hadn’t seen, so he mostly skipped over them. His PT, Physical Exams, Psych Evaluations, and handler comments were definitely an interesting read. 

The medical team thought he was a terror, and said so in more professional words. He took pride in that one. Obviously, his physical exams were in top shape, though the examiner hinted at a past filled with malnourishment and abuse. Clint didn’t dwell on that comment too much. Psych said basically the same thing. _“Refuses to open up, crass, rude, defensive, easy to anger. Triggers: unknown. History: unknown. Volatile.”_ He scoffed. He was not “volatile”. He was a sniper for fuck’s sake. 

Really though, he expected that from those documents. The fun part, however, was the handler comments.

There were scalding comments from Victoria Hand, calling him lazy and stupid, not worth even a singular grain of salt, basically calling him walking rubbish. Which, to be completely honest, wasn’t far off. 

There were surprisingly nice comments from Jasper Sitwell. Clint had been an ass to the man, but Sitwell had held up under Clint’s testing and apparently hadn’t decided to hate him for it. That was interesting. 

Sitwell basically said that his talent and potential was there to make an amazing marksman, but the attitude and anger needed work more than his actual shooting did. He commented that if someone could break the ice around Clint’s exterior, he’d rocket through the ranks faster than he already was. 

There were more comments from other handlers Clint didn’t really care about. The comments he really wanted to see were Coulson's’. In very plain language they were written with the same short and simple precision that Coulson had with every encounter.

_“Talented, but loud-mouthed, arrogant, show off, snarky, pushy, and rude. Major attitude issues and authority issues. Guarded and defensive. Not ready.”_

Clint would never admit it, but those comments stung. 

It was with a little bit more digging, he found a folder titled: _Coulson’s Complete List of Everything Clint Barton_

It contained folders labeled “Favourites”, “Habits”, “Triggers”, “Routines” and a shit ton of others. Inside each folder had more and more complex subfolders. Coulson was keeping a complementary document of absolutely everything Clint said, did, or thought basically. He couldn’t decide if that freaked him out or simply made him curious. He decided that tonight wasn’t the night to attempt to unravel the mysteries and complexities of Agent Phillip Coulson. 

With that thought, he deleted all his activity from the computer’s mainframe, shut down Coulson’s computer, and disappeared through the vent he came here in without a sound or trace that he’d ever been there.

* * *

Phil Coulson wasn’t one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s best agents because he was a dumb man. He knew the instant Barton had hacked into his computer. Actually, he’d known the instant the man had entered his office. 

When his phone’s alert went off at 2 a.m. he’d known there was trouble. However, something in the back of his mind told him not to enact the hidden speakers in his office that would allow he to bust the rookie’s ass for hacking into his computer and sneaking into his personal office and instead watch the younger man to see how this would play out. 

He wasn’t surprised when the kid blew through his firewalls and protective software with ease, Coulson knew the kid was intelligent, even if he didn’t show it. However, he definitely was surprised when the kid bypassed some of the most secure and classified files in the agency without a spare glance. 

Instead, the kid simply shifted through and looked at the files that concerned him. He watched from his computer’s webcam as Barton scanned over his general files, exams, evaluations, and handler comments. He saw the offended look at his psych comments, heard the scoff at Hand’s comments, the surprised look at Sitwell’s, and the slightly stung look that crossed his face at Phil’s own comments. Then the kid found his list.

Of course, Barton would find it. Naturally. Phil groaned out loud from his bed as he watched the more and more puzzled expressions filter over Barton’s face the more he investigated the documents. There really wasn’t much in the folders yet. Coulson had only known the archer for a few months and had yet to get anything out of the man’s mouth that wasn’t scathing sarcasm or blunt rudeness. 

Eventually, Barton just shook his head, wiped his activity, and disappeared into the shadows. 

Phil sat up the rest of the night wondering and questioning how his life became revolved around international intelligence, high tech, and a former merc and assassin that was too handsome for his own good…

* * *

Coulson’s list had been temporarily overridden in Clint’s mind for eight or nine months while everything was crazy. First, it was a mission to take down a huge drug lord in Japan. Then it was a human trafficker in Peru. Then it was a murdering member of the Mafia in Italy. Then an intelligence collection in Spain. A raid in Germany. An international drug bust in Mexico. And a weird ass underwater submarine boat napper in the middle of bum-fuck-central Carribean. 

Quite frankly, Clint was worn and exhausted, but he’d never admit that. If S.H.I.E.L.D had places they wanted him, he was in no position to decline them. After all, this was all the chance he got. 

Coulson had given him some medical leave after that submarine mission. He’d gotten thrown against one of the walls of the sub and had a nasty concussion thanks to that. He’d argued against the week off, but eventually, Coulson won out. He stalked away, but secretly enjoyed his quiet day up in the vents with Oscar Wilde’s _The Picture of Dorian Gray_. 

It was when he began questioning why the book was one of his favourites, that he remembered Coulson’s list about him. He idly wondered if anything more had been added to it. And resolved to hack into Coulson’s computer sometime in his week off if he got bored. 

He got his chance earlier than expected, and it was later that night he snuck into Coulson’s office and hacked into his computer. He pulled up the list with somewhat of practiced ease. His visual memory being almost photographic helped him bypass all the other meaningless files to him. 

Opening up the primary folder, he noticed many changes. The overall description of him had been updated.

 _Update Description of Agent Clinton F. Barton - Level 3  
Barton shows more and more progress the more challenges thrown at him. Surprisingly, he handles missions much differently than previously anticipated. Barton shows amazing restraint and control when on a stake out or mission. His reports leave something to be desired, but his live feed is impeccable. As always, he is mouthy and obnoxious over the comms and can not retain a radio silence unless strictly necessary, but mild inconveniences can be overlooked when looking at Barton’s final product. Works much better solo, but works adequately with a team when needed._

Scanning over more reports, Clint notices that Coulson takes notes over his medical and psych files. He has detailed reports concerning Clint’s muscle gain and deterioration, his dietary routines, monthly psych evaluations, his uniform and casual measurements and preferences. There were notes about his academic achievements with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s tutors and Clint was at a complete standstill as to where Coulson was getting this data on him.

Unbeknownst to him, Coulson was watching, once again, through the webcam of his computer with growing amusement. The kid was completely flabbergasted. Didn’t he know by now that whenever Agent Coulson asked for intel, he got it? Regardless of the subject.

* * *

It was years, seven to be exact, before either one of them actually broached the subject of the list. Though Clint checked it every couple of months and Coulson always watched from the webcam. The list grew more and more detailed as the senior agent slowly learned more and more about his archer.

Like Clint’s favourite colour was purple, because his mother’s favourite dress was covered in purple flowers. It was the dress they buried her in and one of his only good memories of his mother was a Sunday morning when their father was out of town for business and they went to church just the three of them. 

Or the fact that Clint would eat just about anything if there was enough cheese on it. 

That his favourite movie was a tie between Emilie Ardolino’s 1987 “Dirty Dancing” and John Hughes’ 1985 “The Breakfast Club”. 

He had a habit of plucking his bowstring when he was thinking and always carried an extra string to toy with in his top left pocket.

The fact that Clint was ambidextrous and could shoot a gun or bow from either hand with impeccable accuracy from just about any distance. 

The humiliating fact that Clint could juggle. 

Clint’s favourite music was old school rock n roll, but he had a secret guilty pleasure for country music.

Clint hummed a lot. 

His top three favourite spots in S.H.I.E.L.D., in order, are the vents above Coulson’s office, the vents above Sitwell’s office, and the gaudy, dilapidated, jewel purple couch that magically appeared in Coulson’s office after he fell asleep in one of the stiff-backed visitor chairs in front of the desk. 

Basically, Coulson had gathered a lot of intel on Clint Barton over the last seven years. Except, they were only just now broaching the subject of actually talking about it.

They were sitting in a safe house in Moscow, Russia when Clint, in his drug-induced state blurted out: “There’s something you ought to add to that list of yours.”

For his part, Phil barely glanced at the archer. He tended to blurt out random things when drugged, sometimes in multiple different languages that didn’t mesh well together other times in plain English that didn’t mesh well together, “And what list would you be talking about, Barton?”

“Mine.” Clint’s eyes found Phil’s and he read the nervous anticipation within them. After seven years of working with Coulson and more than a couple near-death encounters with the man, Clint could read him better than most.

“Your list.” Coulson phrased it as a statement, but it was questioning.

“Yeah. _“Coulson’s Complete List of Everything Clint Barton”_ or some shit. There’s something you need to add to it.”

Small wrinkles appeared at the top of Coulson’s brow, but he nonetheless urged the impaired archer to continue, “Do tell, Barton, what that might be?”

“Clint Barton’s only, and favourite, handler is Agent Phillip J-whatever the fuck it stands for Coulson.”

In response, Coulson threw a bloody rag at Clint’s head, told him to shut his mouth before he sewed it shut, and go the fuck to sleep. Clint obliged, laughing to himself, and didn’t miss the small quirk on Coulson’s own lips as he finally allowed the obscene amount of morphine in his system to take its toll.

* * *

For his part, Coulson actually did add Clint’s statement to his list, if for no other reason to annoy the archer. 

For his part, Clint was actually pissed he spilled his second longest secret while high as a fucking kite in a tornado in Kansas. 

Clint stormed into Coulson’s office a week later and slammed his hands on the senior agent’s desk, “You’ve got to be fucking with me, Coulson.”

Coulson didn’t look up from his computer for a solid minute, just to piss the archer off more, “Honestly, Barton, did you really think I didn’t know you’ve been hacking into my computer for seven years? I’ve known since the moment your dumbass first dropped from that vent. You have talent, Barton. But not that much.”

Clint huffed and puffed, but for once didn’t have a smartass or clever remark. He simply stormed out of Coulson’s office, leaving the senior agent with a smug smirk on his face and a newly re-found interest in making Barton’s life somewhat miserable. 

Judging by the startled yelp from the vents above his office, Clint hadn’t exactly expected the chaos and mischief that “Clint Barton’s only, and favourite, handler, Agent Phillip J-whatever the fuck it stands for Coulson” would come with.

* * *

Four years later, when a familiar alert when off on his phone, Agent Coulson watched through his computer webcam as a redheaded, Russian, assassin and a too-handsome-for-his-own-good, irritating, former merc, archer hacked into his computer and pulled up two files. One old and packed full of ever-growing information, titled _“Coulson’s Complete List of Everything Clint Barton”_ and one brand new, and slow growing, titled _“Coulson & Barton’s Complete List of Everything Natasha Romanov”_. 

And when one Clinton Francis Barton looked into the webcam of Coulson’s computer, winked, and went back to looking at the documents with a self-satisfied smirk on his face; Coulson knew that Clint Barton had been the one watching all along. For the first time in the eleven years of working with the irritating archer, Phillip Coulson had to admit that he’d finally met his match. And maybe, _just maybe_ , the kid did really have that much talent.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know, I'm literally the worst. I haven't uploaded anything in like an entire eon. I swear, the last chapter of "Checking Up" will be out soon (i hope). But my life got crazy busy and a whole bunch a shit happened and i lost my want and will to write literally anything. So here's a little drabble that i originally wasn't going to post by here we are. don't kill me pls


End file.
